


Not every girl can be a good girl

by Carola_dl



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 21:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12374751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carola_dl/pseuds/Carola_dl
Summary: Her mother told her once that not every girl could be a good girl - but that's alright.(Shadow didn't know he was lying when he said she was beautiful inside out; Mad Sweeney didn't know he was lying when he said she was just a dead girl - but somehow, Laura likes the leprechaun's lies better, because they are closer to the truth.)A continuation of the last episode of the first season.





	Not every girl can be a good girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, It seems like the fandom is a little bit dead now that's been months since the first season ended, but I wanted to share this fanfic anyway.
> 
> It's a "study" of Laura's relationship with both Shadow and Sweeney, it doesn't completely adhere to canon but it's pretty close.
> 
> The explicit sexual content is very mild and brief, but it's there.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Not every girl can be a good girl.**

 

In the front yard of an isolated mansion, a spring goddess brings famine to the world, a god of a thousand names prepares for war and the modern technologies spit their threats.

As always, the mortals can’t do more than witness the tragedy of their sad fates. While Shadow gasps in something that’s closer to awe than horror, Laura observes the scene from the balcony – silent and determined, and Mad Sweeney stands beside her like a faithful guard.

The apocalypse is here and Laura couldn’t care less – she doesn’t have time to worry about the lives of strangers when Shadow Moon, her light, is so close.

He wasn’t always her light, her love – Once, he was merely a piece of furniture in her boring routine: As significant as her toaster, an object that was present in her daily life, convenient and accessible.

Those were sad times – and she remembers them well.

+++

Laura Moon turns 26 and, contrary to most girls of her age, she feels older. Not wise, but empty and withered.

Her nervous and sweaty fingers try to open a letter, although she can already guess what it says. Her mother has never been very affectionate and even the bank statements are usually friendlier than her mother’s missives.

Shadow approaches her from behind and kisses her in the corner of her mouth.

“Happy Birthday.”

She doesn’t smile and she doesn't even look at him. She’s too preoccupied with the letter she has in her hands as if it was a ticking bomb. When she finally frees the letter from its envelope, she reads it with anxiety.

“What does she say?” Shadow asks, over her shoulder.

“Happy 26th birthday. You’re not a little girl anymore. Don’t forget to use the anti-age lotion I bought you.”

She shouldn’t be disappointed, but she is.

“She is a bitch.” Shadows says, shaking his head.

“That’s what she always says about me,” Laura says, without any emotion.

Shadow kneels down beside her chair and forces her to look at him. “Laura, look at me. You’re not a bitch.”

She looks at him intently, trying to discover if he’s lying to himself or to her. She smiles at him because she knows that’s what he’s expecting from her.

“What am I, Puppy?” She asks.

Shadow puts her big hands on her cheeks and closes the distance between them. They’re so close she can feel his breath on her nose.

“You’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met. The one with the biggest heart. The best one of them all: Generous, beautiful from the inside out…”

Laura puts a finger on his mouth, asking him to stop talking. ‘ _Don’t lie_ ,’ she wants to tell him, ‘ _I know what I am_.’ But she kisses him instead, silencing him.

He takes her up in his arms as if she was light as a feather – and she supposes, for him, she is. He puts her on bed delicately and smiles at her as if she had the world on her hands. And she supposes, for him, she does.

He caresses her arm, suggestively. “Today’s your day, baby. Ask away.”

Laura smiles mischievously and stands up on her bed. Slowly, she unbuttons her dress while Shadow watches her intently. She’s tempted to ask him, once again: ‘ _Who am I?_ ’ but she knows he won’t say the truth – he will only say _his_ truth, and that’s not good enough.

So she asks: “What do you see?” She lets the dress fall to her ankles. He drinks her up with his eyes. His silence is the purest truth she can get from him – and still, she wants his words. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Shadow says in a whisper. He grabs her and kisses her passionately but Laura pushes him away, her naughty smile still in place.

“You said today’s my day. I choose.”

Shadow nods, “You choose.”

She lies on her bed and brings his whole weight onto her, almost crashing herself against the mattress. She even feels claustrophobic under Shadow’s muscular body but she likes it: She enjoys that fleeting moment when her body thinks she can’t breathe and death is near. Still under him, Laura turns around, brushing herself against him.

“From behind, rough.” She orders.

Sometimes, she doesn’t want to look at his face while they fuck. It’s not that she doesn’t find Shadow attractive because he’s probably the most beautiful man she has ever met, but his candid and sweet stare makes her feel undeserving. He’s just too considerate, even during sex. He’s the lover every normal good girl would want – but she isn’t a normal girl, and she’s most definitely not a good girl.

Shadow stands up on his knees and Laura can hear the zip of his pants being pulled down. Her heart _doesn’t_ beat with excitement but something between her legs tingle – and that’s the closest thing to romantic love she has ever felt.

+++

Those were the happy-sad times. Then, death came and with that, a beating heart. For the first time in her miserable life, Shadow Moon kissed her and she felt that life was worth living. It was quite ironic that it happened when she was dead.

Now, it’s her opportunity to get her own kind of normalcy back so Laura gathers her courage and takes a step forward. She closes her hands around the metallic bars of the balcony and asks:

“Can I have a word with my husband?”

The gods look at her with surprise and she can’t help feeling proud for their bewildered expressions. While the old gods look at her, the new gods disappear in a blink, like the characters from Méliès’ fantastical films.

Ostara looks around, her face glows – like the faces of some people do after an orgasm. Then, she shakes her head and her elated state disappears to leave room to an annoyed resignation.

“Yes, dear. You can speak with your husband,” She tells Laura, with a friendly smile. Then, she looks around and sighs. “I guess you’re all invited to stay over for the night.” She says as if good manners forced her to extend the invitation.

Laura only half-hears her, she’s too busy admiring Shadow’s smile. _He’s happy to see her. He’s happy to see her._ The fear of a second rejection vanishes and Laura, for the first time in her life, feels like a teenager that has finally gotten the attention of her crush.

In a show of vanity, she pinches her cheeks, trying to bring some color to it. It’s futile, of course. Laura turns around to look at Mad Sweeney, who has stayed uncharacteristically silent at her side.

“How do I look?” She asks him, challenging him to be any less than complimentary.

“Like death.” He answers, wrinkling his nose as if the mere sight of her disgusted him.

She sends him a heated stare, faking offense. It’s the truth, she knows, but she doesn’t have time for a do-over. Her plan was: First, resurrection and second, meeting Shadow again - but the change of order has been unavoidable.

Without losing any more seconds, she walks back into the house and heads toward the stairs. She can hear Mad Sweeney’s steps behind her and she’s not surprised that he’s following her. His presence has become as familiar as her shadow and as annoying as the flies that circle her.

“He won’t take you back, you know?” Sweeney tells her, still some steps behind her.

She doesn’t bother to stop, she keeps walking while she answers, “He smiled when he saw me. He’s happy to see me.”

“Well, from a long distance, you still don’t look too far gone. But what do you think he will say when he’s close enough to smell you?”

Laura doesn’t need to smell her armpits to know what he’s talking about. She has simply gotten used to the smell of her own putrefaction. She decides the best defense in this instant is her silence. She ignores him and walks down the stairs.

“Even if you were still fresh skin, bouncy tits and flowers’ aroma, he wouldn’t take you back. He won’t.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “I have never owned a perfume that smells like flowers.”

“And do you want to know why?” Mad Sweeney continues, ignoring her retort. “Because every time he kisses you, he will remember that you died with his friend’s prick inside your mouth; every time he fucks you, he will wonder if his friend gave you more orgasms; Every time he looks at you…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Laura says, this time angry. She stops in front of the open door of the living room, which is still empty.

“But now you’re dead and you most surely look and taste like death.” He steps forward closing the distance between them, “Your mouth smells like shit and your lips are so dry they’re like razors...” He touches her lips with his thumb, to prove his point but she pushes his hand away with such violence that she almost breaks his wrist.

He screams in pain. “You cunt!” He exclaims.

“What did we say about the affectionate names?” She asks, with irony.

“He won’t take you back because your guts are coming out from between your tits and your vagina is a fucking swimming pool for worms!” He continues, resuming his interrupted monologue.

“Charming.” She says, pretending to be unaffected by his crude words.

Laura steps into the living room and Mad Sweeney, still caressing his wrist, follows her into the room. She turns around and stops him, poking her bony finger in his sternum.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He puts his hand on her ribcage, the tips of some of his fingers touching one of her breasts. Laura doesn’t immediately push him away because the heat his hand radiates soothes the ache of her cold bones. Part of her appreciates how he never seems to be scared of her violent attitude and always seems to come back for more.

“Don’t forget you have something inside you that belongs to me. As long as that is the case, you’re not getting out of my sight.”

Before Laura can think of a witty remark, a fist that seems to come out of nowhere hits Mad Sweeney on the cheek. The leprechaun steps back, almost losing his equilibrium but he recovers in time.

Laura, in an impulse, turns around and grabs the attacker from his neck, lifting him in the air. She morphs her face into her most threatening expression and looks up at the perpetrator. The fury in her face melts down when she recognizes Shadow. Her Puppy.

She immediately opens her hand and Shadow falls to the floor. He caresses his neck and looks at her with confusion. Laura feels mortified and ashamed like she has never felt before. For a moment, she really feels like a monster that shouldn’t be alive.

“I’m sorry, Puppy. I didn’t know it was you.”

He coughs and stands up with some difficulty. Behind Laura, Sweeney cleans the blood of his scratched cheek and looks at Shadow with anger:

“What the hell was that!?” He shouts at Shadow, furious.

“You were harassing my wife!”

“The fuck? I didn’t harass your ex-wife! If I had touched her in any way she didn’t want, I wouldn’t have all my body parts now. If you haven’t noticed yet, she could cut me in pieces with her bare hands.”

Laura rolls her eyes, recognizing the insinuation in Mad Sweeney’s ineffective defense. Shadow looks at Laura, frowning with confusion and even fear. The expression on his face is very familiar, it was what earned him the title of puppy.

“Puppy, don’t listen to him. Let’s go somewhere private to talk. Please?”

Shadow nods his head. He takes her hand, in a possessive way that makes Laura smile, and walks with her to the living room. Laura looks at Mad Sweeney with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t even think about interrupting us. You can wait here.”

“I am a leprechaun, not your fucking pet dog.”

Laura squints her eyes at him but doesn’t say anything. She closes the door behind her. When the thick oak doors hide the sight of the two lovers, Mad Sweeney shakes his head, curses under his breath and sits on the floor, leaning against the wall.

He waits.

+++

Laura smiles at Shadow, the small curve of her mouth is the only apology she can offer him. Standing in front of Shadow, it’s easy to become again the delicate girl that Shadow had chosen as his life companion. It’s easy - but her skin suddenly feels more oppressing than ever.

“How did you…?” He asks, caressing his own neck.

“The perks of being dead.” She answers with simplicity.

She’s surprised to see how easily Shadows accepts that answer. He just nods. Laura, suddenly nervous, touches the seams that tie together her collarbone. She’s dead and it fucking hurts.

“I know I don’t look my best right now.” She says, feeling self-conscious.

“No, no. You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.” Shadow says with gentleness.

Part of her – her vanity and her hopes, to be more precise – welcomes that answer, but a voice deep inside her reminds her that it’s _just_ _his truth_ and his truths are usually plain lies to her.

“You left me behind in that ugly motel, Puppy.”

Shadow sighs and nods his head. He feels guilty. “Yes, I was… arrested, again. Then, when we came back you weren’t there anymore. I thought you were gone…”

“It’s fine. I understand. What matters is that we’re together now.” She takes some steps forward, closing the distance between them.

He steps back and Laura tries to mask her pain and disappointment. “No.” He says, shaking his head as if stepping back wasn’t answer enough. “Being with me didn’t make you happier, Laura.”

“It didn’t make me unhappier.”

“It’s just too soon, what you did… I can’t just go back home, I have a new job now.”

“A dangerous one, Puppy. Let them fuck each other, this isn’t your war.” Shadow doesn’t say anything but his eyes already betray his answer.

Laura feels tempted to tell him the essential role Mr. Wednesday had on her premature death, that would’ve convinced Shadow to leave the old god behind but… something tells her that she could find a better use for such a secret.

“The world is going to hell but we have each other. I came back from the dead, Puppy. Nobody gets a second chance like ours, we can’t throw it away.” She caresses his hand with the tips of her fingers. She doesn’t know if she’s trying to seduce him or if she misses the touch of his skin. “We will get that pretty future you wanted for us.”

+++

Every morning, he steals her coffee with a confident smile – She can only accuse him of that petty crime. Shadow Moon wasn’t what Laura expected. He wasn’t the con man that walked the thin line between right and wrong or the complex man capable of understanding her darkness.

And still, she doesn’t want to push him away. He’s a welcome distraction, a new variant in her boring life. He keeps coming back and every time, she opens the door.

Before she realizes it, he’s inside her house and her home is his home.

One morning, months after they met, Laura wakes up and sees Shadow standing in front of her bed, holding a coffee mug and looking at her with a devotion that scares her.

“Why are you still here?”

Shadow blinks, confused for a moment. “You asked me to stay the night.”

She remembers it differently. It was he who asked to stay and she shrugged. It doesn’t matter because that’s not what she wants to know.

“No. It’s been… what? 5 months? Why do you keep coming back?”

“That’s what boyfriends do.”

She flinches as if that word was some venous parasite.

“I don’t think I can be a girlfriend, I’ve never know how to…”

He sits on the edge of the bed and pushes her closer, until their knees touch. He looks at her with tender eyes, probably thinking she’s fishing for comfort. She isn’t sure if she wants him to contradict her or if she needs him to understand.

“You’re doing fine so far.” He says, with a big smile.

She shakes her head. “This isn’t going to end well. I can be very mean and then… I don’t know, you will drink all the time.”

Surprisingly, he laughs, “Are you quoting Moulin Rouge?”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m quoting David Bowie, and he’s right.” The tense moment barely lasts some seconds because Laura can’t contain a chuckle and a comment. “You watched Moulin Rouge?”

Shadow shakes his head, a ‘You caught me’ smile in his face. He starts trailing kisses along her neck and Laura closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation. She feels a tingling between her legs and, naively, she thinks: _Maybe this could turn into love._

+++

Standing in the living room of Ostara’s home, Laura looks into Shadow’s eyes and feels a surge of hope. She considers kissing him again because she misses the sensation of her heart beating inside her chest, but she recalls certain harsh words in an Irish accent: _Your man tasted vomit and cigarettes in your mouth._

She knows her breath is even worse now, so she tries to convince him with words and promises. It’s a first time for her:

“Everything’s different now, puppy. We can be happy now.”

“What changed?” Shadow asks, doubtful.

“I died,” Laura says, with a smile. “Don’t you think that’s reason enough? Puppy, I didn’t appreciate life before… but now that I know what it means to be dead, I want a future with you. The whole American dream: The house, the kids, the white fence and the dog. Well, actually, I would rather have a cat.”

Shadow looks at her with an expression Laura isn’t able to identify – and that scares her. This Shadow isn’t the Shadow she knows. She smiles at him, trying to encourage him to say yes but his silence is too long…

“You don’t have to say yes now. None of this will matter until I find a way to come back to life. I will be resurrected and then, you can decide.” Laura caresses Shadows’ face, “ Just wait for me, okay?”

Shadow’s eyes darken and, in that moment, Laura realizes she said the wrong thing. Shadow takes her hand off his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He walks away, without more explanations.

Laura clenches her fists, angry and sad at the same time. She looks at the floor while she hears Shadow’s steps vanishing into the distance.

After several seconds, Laura swallows back her disappointment. She opens the thick doors of the living room and is surprised to see the radiant smile of Ostara instead of the frowning countenance of the leprechaun.

“Well?” Ostara asks.

“Sorry?” Laura asks, confused.

“Would you be sharing a room with your husband or do you need a room for yourself?”

Laura sighs. “I’m afraid I will need a room for myself.”

Ostara nods. “No problem, dear. I have plenty of rooms in this house. ”

“Have you seen Mad Sweeney?” Laura asks. She feels disappointed that he didn’t wait for her, as she told him to do. After Shadow’s rejection, she feels this slight keenly.

Ostara’s welcoming smile immediately drops.

Laura feels tempted to ask what Mad Sweeney did to provoke such animosity and if the favor she owed him was related to it. However, Ostara’s only presence infers respect, in the same way her own mother did. And Laura was always afraid to ask the wrong questions to her mother.

Ostara whistles and, seconds later, a bunny jumps into a chest of drawers. Ostara bends over to listen to the animal’s whispers. She rolls her eyes, shakes her head and then, looks at Laura:

“He’s at the edge of the forest, feeling melancholic. He’s a little mad at me for taking the spring, he was always fond of nature. I guess it reminds him of green Ireland and his glory years.”

Laura thanks her host for the indications and heads toward the main door. While she walks away, Ostara informs her that they will have a brunch tomorrow at 11.00 am. Laura nods and continues her walk.

+++

She goes to him.

Mad Sweeney sits on the ground, with his back to her, looking at the dead trunks and the fallen dry leaves. For the first time, Laura feels sad for the absence of spring. The landscape lacks color and life – and she feels strangely identified with this portrait of still life.

She doesn’t make her presence known immediately. Instead, she watches him, with the same fascination one watches a caged animal that’s finally free.

When Mad Sweeney moves slightly to his right, he sees her from the corner of his eyes and he jumps, startled.

“Shit! Are you trying to kill me?”

Laura smiles, “Most of the time, I am.”

Sweeney doesn’t answer. He looks back at the desolate landscape with sadness. Laura sits on the dirt, next to him.

He stretches out his long legs and Laura confesses, “Shadow rejected me.”

“Did you come to hear my ‘I told you so’?” Sweeney asks.

Laura shakes her head. She reaches for his big pocket and takes out a cigarette and a lighter – she doesn’t know why she was so sure he would have some.

“If it makes you feel better,” Laura says with evident sarcasm because they both know she doesn’t give a damn about what makes him feel better. He shakes his head and chuckles, bitterly.

She puts the cigarette between her lips and exhales a cloud of smoke. She looks how it dissolves in the air: it’s hypnotic. They don’t exchange a word until Mad Sweeney breaks the silence, “Did you tell him I saw you naked?”

She smiles, with the cigarette still between her lips. “That wasn’t sexual or romantic. Just medical examination.”

He doesn’t seem disappointed or frustrated by her answer. He smiles, as if he finds the situation quite funny, and lies down on the ground. She does the same, lying next to him. The silence seems to become endless between them. This time, it’s she the one to break it:

“Do you want to see me naked again?”

“This may surprise you, but your naked body isn’t a pretty sight.”

This is not how usually goes. Men normally feel immediately excited at the prospect and she has to pretend to be doubtful. She likes to see the desperation in their eyes, their need to fuck her now and there. Mad Sweeney is different – maybe because he’s a leprechaun; Maybe because she’s just a corpse. But Laura doesn’t like to be rejected – especially not twice in the same day.

She grabs his hand and places it on her stomach, under her loose red jacket. He doesn’t protest and Laura guides his hand from her belly bottom to the skin under her left breast.

“You touched me here before, thinking the coin was here, under my skin and bones. I can’t be sure but I think it’s actually here.” She moves his big hand so it covers her whole breast. Her cold nipple brushes against his warm palm.

He doesn’t take his hand off but he doesn’t try to go further, either.

“Do you want it?” Laura asks.

She doesn’t know if she’s offering the coin or her body but Sweeney remains still and silent. Good, she thinks, because neither of them is ready for the answer.

It’s so easy to fall back into old habits and Laura knows she should feel ashamed that she’s lying on the dry grass with the hand of a man that’s not her husband covering her breast. She doesn’t feel regrets as if it was a dream instead of reality.

She looks up at the stars and remembers that her mother told her once that not every girl could be a good girl.

+++

Laura’s mother folds her arms and looks at her eight years old daughter with a severe expression.

“Why did you hit him, Laura? And don’t try to deny it, your teacher called me this morning. She said you also said… well, I’m not going to repeat it here, am I?”

Laura gathers the courage to look at her mother, but her cheeks are still flushed with embarrassment.

“He kissed me.” She answers, with anger.

“Well, Laura, you’re a pretty girl and boys are going to want to kiss you… that doesn’t mean you can hit them.”

“But I don’t want him to kiss me again, and my friend Sarah said that bullies stop bothering you if you hit them so I guessed it was the same for the kissers.”

“A good girl doesn’t hit boys.”

“If a good girl kisses boys, then I don’t think I want to be a good girl.”

“A good girl doesn’t kiss boys either, Laura. Not a lot of boys, at least. Good girls tell them that they are flattered but they don’t want to kiss them and that’s it.” She bits her lip, feeling ashamed. “And, especially, good girls don’t say…well, what you said!”

“Go fuck yourself?”

“Laura! I told you not to say that. Where did you hear something like that?”

“Dad says that on the phone a lot when he’s talking business.”

“Well, only adults can use those words. Okay?”

Laura nods.

One month later, Laura hits another boy because she doesn’t want to kiss him. When she arrives home, ready for another argument with her mother, she finds her crying on the phone:

“I am going to suck you dry. You hear me? You fucking asshole! It’s too late for apologies. Yes, too fucking late because I’ve already signed the divorce papers. It’s happening and I am going to make sure you lose a big chunk of your beloved money.”

She has never heard her mother say such ugly words so Laura stays frozen in the middle of the living room, looking at her mother as if she were a stranger. She’s afraid that she will scream at her in the same way when she finds out she hit another boy.

Her mother, however, deflates and falls on the chair, sobbing uncontrollably. Laura walks toward her, with the caution she would use for a wild animal. She puts a hand over her mother’s shoulder.

“Don’t cry, mom.”

Her mother looks up and, suddenly, hugs her. Laura takes a breath, deeply surprised. Her mother has never been affectionate and she can’t even remember the last time she hugged her.

This show of affection makes Laura feel guilty so she rushes to confess her ‘sin.’

“Mom… listen to me. I hit another boy. I promise I told him I didn’t want to kiss him but he tried to kiss me anyway so I hit him, but this time I didn’t say any ugly words. I promise.”

Laura prepares internally to battle her mother’s anger… but it never comes. Her mother shows her a bitter smile and says:

“I guess not every girl can be a good girl… but that’s just fine, darling.”

It’s a lesson Laura has never forgotten. One year later, Laura kisses a boy and tells him that, because she has kissed him, he has the obligation of sharing his candy with her.

+++

She has been naked in front of Mad Sweeney, once. She had shown him her ugly scars, had shared with him her pain, and he hasn’t turned away. She supposes that he deserves a little bit of gratitude, but she has never known how to show it with words, so she offers a part of her body.

It’s not the first time. She supposes she did the same with Robbie. This time, however, it feels more intimate. They’re only lying beside each other, his hand still warming her left breast.

He takes back his hand, without even looking at her. Laura feels immediately furious as if he was rejecting an apology or an offering. She expects him to ignore her and leave – but he doesn’t. He turns around, face down, and supports his weight with his elbows.

With one hand, Mad Sweeney pulls down the zipper of her red jacket, exposing her chest, which is tied together by the colorful pins she bought in a cheap store. She lets him do it, intrigued and even excited.

He looks up at her, waiting to be granted permission. She doesn’t really know what he’s asking but she’s intrigued, so she nods.

He brings his mouth to her left breast and sucks. Laura closes her eyes and her body reacts to it as if she was still alive, with a shiver. His mouth kisses her nipple, only once, and then – it’s gone. Laura opens her eyes and looks at him, with a question in her eyes: _Why are you stopping?_

“I just wanted to know how it tasted.”

“How did it taste?”

“Like death.”

He stands up, shakes off the dust from his pants and walks away. Laura remains still, with her breasts exposed. Looking at the branches of the trees, she nods at herself and thinks: _At least, he was honest._

Two black ravens fly in circles over her head. Laura looks at them and feels like someone is watching her. She shakes her head, _silly Laura_ , she thinks, _they’re only birds._  

+++

During the coldest nights, Laura likes to think what her life would’ve been if she had never met Shadow Moon. Sometimes, that life is a never-ending nightmare of long work hours and her mother constantly asking her when she’s going to find a good man that would give her pretty children. Other times, she likes to dream of adventures, and the uncertainty fills her with excitement instead of fear.

The dead doesn’t sleep, doesn’t dream, so Laura has too much time to think about her sins and her pleasures. She remembers a mouth closing around her breath, a tongue caressing her nipple, and she shivers. She resists the need of touching herself because she’s afraid she will damage her decomposing body even further.

She should regret that another man’s mouth kissed her breast but she doesn’t. It doesn’t feel real – _did it really happen? Probably not_ – and she has never felt guilty about her fantasies.

He saw her naked once, she remembers, but it wasn’t romantic.

+++

There’s pain – there has always been pain but this one is different.

In a small motel, far away from any form of civilization, Laura looks at her reflection in the mirror. She holds the tweezers she bought in a cheap store, the same place where she purchased the colorful pins and the bandages.

She has glass shards inside her body – like the Ice Queen from the tale – and it feels like someone is stabbing her from inside. She tries to find the shards with the tweezers but the pain doesn’t allow her to concentrate. It feels like she’s trying to practice surgery on herself.

She sighs, resigned. She knows what she has to do – and she hates it. Laura grabs the bandages and ties them around her chest to make sure her vital organs remain inside her body once she starts walking. She looks at her reflection with a pout.

“How do I look?” She asks the mirror. Unsurprisingly, there’s no answer.

Laura puts the bathrobe on and, once again, she sighs.

Twenty minutes later, she stands in the hallway of the cheap and forgotten motel. She looks at the closed door of a room that isn’t hers, still dressed only with bandages and a bathrobe, and carrying a small toilet kit and a vodka bottle.

She knows how it looks. She knows what he will think once he opens the door – but the truth is that she doesn’t care and she still feels the glass shards inside her, making her bleed. She knocks on the door.

She hears his heavy steps before he opens the door. A second later, Mad Sweeney is in front of her, with one red brow raised. She smiles seductively, an involuntary impulse that makes her feel ridiculous.

His words, of course, don’t help.

“It’s 4:00 AM, Dead Wife, your obsession with me is becoming annoying.” He points at the vodka bottle. “But I could forgive your rudeness for this little liquid present.”

She shakes her head, opens the bottle and drinks from it. Mad Sweeney wrinkles his nose, disgusted. He’s probably thinking about the horrible taste of her tongue mixing with the delicious drink. A waste of good vodka, what a pity.

“This is for me.” Laura answers.

“You’re dry like a dry peach, dear. If you keep drinking alcohol, I could burn you down using only a match.”

It’s worth it, she thinks. “It’s medical alcohol. For the pain.” The words sound absurd even to her. She’s dead – why does her body still feel pain? Why does alcohol still help her to feel numb?

“What are you…?”

She ignores him as she enters the room. His words die when he sees her throwing away her bathrobe. She would be completely naked if it wasn’t for the bandages that keep her body together.

“I need your help.”

“I am not accepting indecent propositions today.” She looks like she doesn’t understand him so he adds in a deadpan tone. “I’m not going to have sex with you. You look like a fucking mummy.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s not the help I need.”

He closes the door behind him and she can’t help thinking that she isn’t here for sex but it sure looks like it, and she finds it amusing. Laura almost wishes someone was there, watching them and misunderstanding the situation. She has always liked the idea of being caught in a compromising situation – but Shadow has always shut her suggestions down, thinking she was joking.

Laura has only cheated on her husband with one man – Robbie – but she had thought about it several times. She remembers watching the driveway scene from Boogie Nights and thinking how would Shadow react if he returned home once and saw a group of strangers, standing in circle around her while she fucked a stranger in the middle of their driveway. It was a disturbing fantasy, she supposed, but then she has never known what kind of fantasies good girls have.

Laura opens the toilet kit, grabs the tweezers out and hands it to him.

“This is simply a medical examination.” She informs him. He looks completely confused, so she sighs in annoyance before explaining further. “I have glass shards inside of me – because of the car accident. It hurts a lot and I can’t take them out so you have to do it.”

“Do you think I’m a doctor?”

“Well, aren’t you an old fuck? Haven’t you learned anything in your long long life?”

He rolls his eyes. “Lie down on the bed.” He orders her.

Laura smiles, she likes the demanding tone in his voice so she obeys. She stretches on the bed, like a lazy cat. Mad Sweeney sits on the bed, next to her but keeping a safe distance.

“I’m not going to bite you.” She complains.

“Yeah? I’m not so sure.” He answers while he grabs some small scissors from the toilet kit. Laura rolls her eyes but she smiles. She squirms when she feels the scissor cutting her bandages. He opens the bandages, trying not to touch her skin. His hesitance is weirdly adorable.

Laura tries not to look at her exposed chest. She has never liked her breasts – they are just too small – and now her skin is cut and her ribcage is showing. It isn’t exactly erotic and she doesn’t know what to be if not erotic.

Mad Sweeney uses the tweezers on her open chest, taking the glass shards one by one. He works on her body, silent as he has never been before, and very focused on his task. Laura wonders, for a moment, if the image of her dead body disgusts him or excites him.

After an hour, which seemed endless, Mad Sweeney starts sewing back the open seams of her old autopsy. He uses the pins she brought and puts a blue butterfly under her clavicle.

“Really?” Laura asks with a disapproving tone, looking at the blue butterfly.

“You bought it.” He reminds her and for that, she doesn’t have an answer or an explanation.

He finishes his task and he’s going to move away when Laura grabs his hand, making it impossible for him to leave.

“What do you see?” She asks the same question she has asked Shadow a thousand times.

Mad Sweeney shakes his head. “Just a dead girl.”

It’s the truth, Laura thinks, and at the same time it’s not the whole truth - but that’s good enough. He stands and gives his back to her. He turned around in a fast movement but Laura still could see the bulge in his pants, revealing a truth he wanted to hide.

She smiles. That truth is good enough, she thinks.

+++

Laura feels disoriented when she wakes up in Ostara’s big mansion. It’s a step up from the rat-infested motels Mad Sweeney had taken her. He’s probably one of the richest men in the world but, apparently, paying cash in the big hotel chains always arouses suspicion.

When she arrives at the dining room, ready to share her brunch with immortal gods, she isn’t surprised to see that Mr. Wednesday is waiting for her, alone in the elegant room.

"Mrs. Moon," Mr. Wednesday says and his good manners don’t fool Laura. She knows what he is. He may be a god but she has met a lot of men like him. "I thought our conversation was long due."

Laura nods and she sits in the chair closest to him, "Before you start with your threats, I think you should know I know things about you. Things that Shadow wouldn’t approve."

"That’s alright, dear, because I know things about you that Shadow wouldn’t approve either. My wish is that we become good friends so we can keep each other’s secrets," He says with a confident smile.

"If you’re referring to Robbie, those are old news."

"Old news, indeed. I was quite surprised when I learned you have taken my faithful leprechaun away from me. It seems like he’s all yours now."

Laura opens her eyes wide, understanding his meaning.

"Now, I am a friendly guy, I have lots of friends. These friends would do anything for my other friends if I ask them to. I am sure one of them could do a little magic trick to fix your small rotting problem."

He smiles like a seller of encyclopedias and she immediately understands what he’s asking: _Shadow or her resurrection?_ What’s more important? She knows what a good girl would do, how a good girl would sacrifice everything for her love – But she’s not good, she has never been, and as her mother said once: _That’s alright._

(Years later, when she’s alive again, she risks everything for a foul-mouthed leprechaun and in that exact instant she wonders if she has finally learned to be a good girl.)


End file.
